Come Undone
by ashhead
Summary: Post s3. Tony starts to fall apart after being released from prison.


Shivering slightly, still not really awake, he drew himself tighter into a ball, wondering why the bed was so uncomfortable. True, he'd been sleeping in it for less than a week, but he'd grown used to the luxury of a sprung bed. He made no attempt to touch her, hadn't since he had come back. She was so pure, an angel, everything he held to be good could be seen shining in her eyes. He didn't want the taint of his creeping touch to corrupt her. He was happy just to admire her beauty; that was enough.

Coldness seeped further into him, but that he was used to, still not having acclimatised to the warmth of a feathered quilt, let alone that given off by the woman lying next to him. But the ache of muscles pushed into awkward positions called him into wakefulness.

His eyes fluttered open slowly, not wanting to wake. He recognised the dryness in his throat, the taste of stale beer, as that which accompanied a hangover. It had been years since he had felt the faint burning, and it amused him, even as his bodied revolted against it.

When his eyes did finally open, the soft light of her bedroom, the one he was invading, was not what met him. Instead of the white cloud patterns which gilded the ceiling, there were dark grey clouds of a morning that very much wanted to rain.

Jumping up, a move which his body heavily protested, he found his surroundings to be not at all what he had expected. The bar which he had spent most of yesterday in whilst she was at work was still there, glaring at him. Its neon light flickering erratically, missing two of the letters.

Memory resurfaced, suggesting that he had drank more than he had used to earn in a day. His shirt, yesterdays shirt, was rumpled around him, not fitting his looser frame and refusing to be straightened. He very much hoped that the stains on it were nacho cheese or curry sauce, and not what the tang in his mouth suggested they were.

What he had done or why he had done it were completely beyond him, his mind had been pushed merely into survival, thinking longer than that was not something he deemed necessary. He did however, consider how he was going to explain this to Michelle. He wasn't really capable of any form of empathy, but he did have a vague idea that she was going to be at the very least upset. Before he would have said furious, but the Michelle at home was very different to the one he had known before. She was more contained, emotions hidden so far away from where he could reach, so practised at hiding what she thought. And she was confusing, not attempting to reach for him anymore than he attempted to reach for her, but all the time calling out for him with her eyes. He wasn't at all sure who she was anymore.

Not that that was relevant. Just the fact that she was likely to be annoyed threw his mind on the defensive. Like a petulant child, he told himself that he had done nothing wrong. There was no reason for her to be angry with him, she didn't own him. He could already feel himself bristling towards her.

This didn't help his current situation however. He needed to get home, his stench bit into his own nostrils, he needed a shower, to turn the water so high that it burned his skin, taking his corruption with the dirt all at once. He forced himself towards the bus stop across the road, paying no attention to anything at all.

The black, dilapidated car that almost ran him over changed this. The woman behind the wheel beeped her horn, and rolled her eyes, barely waiting for him to get out of the way before she revved her engine and drove into a parking spot.

He stood frozen, watching her as she threw the car door closed in annoyance. "What? Don't you have a home to go to?" She was one of the barmaids from last night, he didn't remember her name, didn't remember much except drinking far more than any sane person would consider. When he didn't reply, she rolled her eyes again and stamped her way into the bar without a second look.

He finally managed to make his way across the road, all the while planning to come back in the evening. The staff were pleasant enough. Where Michelle figured into this, he didn't consider. It was enough that his shadow might touch her if he was too close, he couldn't taint her further than that, she was his angel.

The bus came, and finding that his credit card wasn't of any use, he was forced to count out small change for the short journey home. Taking the outer seat on the front, he watched the old lady opposite shift unconsciously away.

There were just too many things to consider, and nothing would fit back into the places they were supposed to. It was just too hard, and he was too tired anyway.


End file.
